=Nexus Crossing=

It is a beautiful day in the small town of Nexus Crossing. The air is crisp, cleaner than most people experience in their entire life. Inhaling is like tasting the sweetest mountain air, exhaling brings all those chemicals in your lungs out. It's actually rather exhausting to continue breathing, as the very environment tries it's damnedest to purge impurities from the bodies of those within the town. The river that flows through town is clear, and teeming with life. The songs of birds mingle in the blue skies, and the sun showers warmth everything it sees. The comfortable smells of baked bread, the comforts of home, only work to sweeten the feel of the place.​

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That doesn't stop it from being completely wrong, however. No amount of beauty in the world could shake the feeling that something is off: there's no one here, save a few others... and they don't know how they got here, either. Details about life outside have to be really thought about to bring them to mind, and the chilling thought that this is some sort of afterlife is hard to shake. It's too real, it's too clean, it's too beautiful.​

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Then, there's the animals. Save for the fish, the creatures in town seem to be a lot more perceptive. Cats turn their heads to look upon visitors, and smirk in a way that only the truest of cats can. Dogs seem excited to meet someone, until the look on their face changes and they run away. The song of birds falter for just a second when people get closer.​

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Modern shoes walk on cobblestone and well-packed dirt, with the smell and look of a storm looming closer to the town. Despite the unease that seems to radiate off the 'perfect' town, it's probably the safest place to wait out the coming storm...​

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"Another coffee please" Arthur said, holding up his empty and now-stained coffee cup. He'd found the small cafe in the early hours of the morning and had been whiling away the hours there. The sun had shown it's face to a rather pleasant fresh and dewy morning, but Arthur had little inclination to leave the cafe as of yet. "Thanks" He said, getting up and casually strolling behind the counter, picking up his dirty cup and placing it below what, to him at least, looked like a pretty archaic filter coffee maker. With an absent mind he pressed the button and set the machine whirring as he placed his cigarette in his lips and leaned down to the fridge, pulling out a jug of milk. It was odd, he'd swear he'd drunk at least 2 jugs worth of the stuff by now, but closing the fridge seemed to have the effect of the milk being refreshed and refilled. That wasn't even touching on the fact that the milk appeared to be fresh despite the emptiness of the town.

Placing the jug on the side to wait for the coffee machine to do it's work he gently grasped the cigarette from his mouth and tapped it out into a makeshift ashtray. He'd found a little dish behind the counter and assumed that the absent staff wouldn't mind him using it so had placed it next to his seat. That was another thing that was strange in this place. Smoking felt like a losing battle to keep the toxins in his body. He'd inhale the smoke and breathe out what felt like more than he'd just breathed in. He'd amused himself trying to figure out a way to stop this, inhaling and holding it, breathing out in tiny hurried breathes, even trying to blow rings, but that had resulted in a lot of coughing and a very hurried couple of gulps of coffee. He'd settled for just putting the sensation to the back of his mind, resolving to try some more things later.

He took another puff with a sidelong glance to the counter "What? there's no sign up" he grumbled at a nearby salt shaker. Sure he was talking to himself but it was better than the silence this place offered otherwise. He had a look around the cafe, the place looked like it was used and bustling, if you ignored the complete absence of another living being that is. The equipment appeared to be cared for, the fridge was stocked and the surfaces seemed to have been recently wiped. It certainly was curious. The coffee machine made what in the 1970s probably passed for a 'ping' but now sounded more like someone stabbing a spoon through a circuit board. He'd worked as a barrista briefly through University and his hands worked on quiet auto-pilot, occasionally raising to release his cigarette from his lips so he could open his mouth and breathe out for a second. He grabbed the new cup of coffee, placed the milk back in the little fridge and placed the cup on the counter "There you go sir" he said, probably a lot cheerier than it should have been, before rounding the counter and sitting down. He raised a small wad of paper, a first draft for a new short story scrawled on it and adjusted his cigarette before taking a sip of the coffee. He raised the cup slightly in a half wave to the no-one behind the counter "Thanks".

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